Aspects of World Building – 1

As is natural for a man of my era, Heinlein is the exemplar when it comes to science fiction craftsmanship.  But whereas in his youth he was something of a progressive I am a conservative.  So, whereas his earliest “what if?” scenario for his future history was the United States becoming an unlikely Christian theocracy, I’m confronted with the reality of a United States that’s already halfway to becoming a woke oligarchic police state.  Therefore, I’ll use that as the first component of my world building.  Of course, it’s hardly original or surprising.  Maybe it’s even lazy or boring.  But I think it fits.  Besides it can be a one off that’s quickly cured by a revolution that leaves a more interesting and fertile chaos in its wake.

And just as easy to add to the pot is the looming energy drought that is already a part of the daily conversation.  Global warming, green energy, fear of nuclear power; all of these conspire to make the future a bleak prospect for the everyday people trying to eek out a living and raise their families.  Therefore, technology around new energy sources and technologies is a no-brainer.

Now, all that’s good stuff but we need some cooler technology than geothermal turbines.  So, we’ll add in cold fusion (or at least warmish fusion) based on the alleged ability of some heavy metals (platinum group, tantalum, etc.) to produce neutrons under the right conditions.

And we’re going to need a Mars mission I’d say.  Why?  Why not?

What about global unrest?  I guess so.  I’m not all that interested in Asia or Africa, or Europe for that matter, anymore.  I guess I should think about their status to make the story convincing but I’ll leave that alone for the beginning.

What other technology?  Well, biological and genetic should be in the mix.  Maybe the ancient DNA information turns up some anomalies that point to a more complicated hominid prehistory that can be leveraged for some genetic engineering stories.  Maybe some research produces a useful understanding of how other aspects of the cellular apparatus beside the DNA mediate evolution.  Maybe some kind of evolutionary acceleration can be controlled using biochemical stimuli that are not currently recognized.  Maybe this science is unlocked by a genius who wants to change humans.  What kinds of change?  Obviously, intelligence but how about gills to breathe underwater?  Look at all those millions of square miles of ocean.  Maybe make humans photosynthetic.

Artificial intelligence is a for-sure part of the universe.  We need AI’s that in many ways appear to be conscious but whether they actually are I don’t currently know.  I’ll have to see what works.

Extraterrestrials?  I really don’t know yet.  Maybe it’s too early for that.  After all I don’t currently have a star drive.  Maybe I’ll start by finding out if there’s simple life somewhere in the solar system.  Could it be bio-pollution from Earth.  Could algae and tardigrades have drifted from Earth to Mars.  Sure, why not?  And could they have developed some interesting new tricks trying to survive on a freezing, almost airless desert?  Of course!

I used to toy with the idea that the gas giant planets (Jupiter and Saturn) might have a stable layer somewhere in between their hot cores and cryogenic surfaces where creatures swim and fight and live and die.  Maybe that would be fun to play with or maybe an ocean inside of one of the Jovian moons would be better.

Okay, I think that’s enough to start with.

Guest Contributor – Ed Brault – 15SEP2024 – Known Space

You might try fitting your story into Larry Niven’s Known-Space/Man-Kzin Wars Universe. Since Niven allowed other writers access to what is now a shared universe, over 15 books of short stories, novelettes, novellas and novels have been written by numerous authors. The Tech timeline goes from 19th Century India, through the age of fusion reaction drives, Bussard Ramjets, and the 3-days per lightyear Hyperdrive. You could set your story in any period along more that 1000 years of technology. The Kzinti Occupation years on Wunderland are ripe for Resistance stories, as are the post-liberation years of political upheaval as surviving working-class colonists try to overthrow the semi-aristocratic Herrenmen who are descended from the original Fifteen Families in the first colony ships, who claimed all the good farmland, industrial concerns, and control of the government.

Known Space – Wikipedia

How Do You Concoct a Science Fiction Universe with Plenty of Elbow Room?

Different science fiction writers have produced every kind of world imaginable and for many different reasons.  A very large chunk of writers did this because they wanted a paycheck and they were told that science fiction was the golden way.  And depending on how talented they were, the stories they wrote were more or less interesting, memorable and coherent.

The earliest of these stories were cobbled together based on an author’s understanding of other genre literature.  So, if the writer wrote cowboy stories previously, then we got Showdown at the Betelgeuse Corral or some such thing.  And in the grand scheme of things that’s not really the worst outcome.  I mean, if our western author is a good story teller then the Showdown may be a very interesting space cowboy story.  And who doesn’t like space cowboys?

But if science fiction should include some world-building that actually has something to do with science then an author should go the next stage and make some kind of hand-waving exercise to justify the technology being used.  You know, warp drive fueled by matter/anti-matter mediated by di-lithium crystals that provide the warpity-warpity part (somehow).  Okay sure.

Now you have the means for a story but why is it?  Who is doing what to whom?  And here is where the cowboy story might be just what you want.  Or maybe it’s the Roman Empire writ large or space Arabia with monstrous spice sandworms or the American Revolution on Luna or Vietnam in space or, or, or.  Whatever gives you a good idea for a story with humans or humans and aliens or just aliens.

And if you want the story to be really worthwhile, well, learn enough about humans to write them somewhat convincingly.  Of course, this is going above and beyond.  There were (and probably are) plenty of writers who apparently have never spoken to or even bumped into living humans.  So, they’re forced to base their characterizations on themselves and thereby end up with some truly weird conversations and interactions.

Now, all of these things are on my to-do list for my foray into sf but I want one more ingredient.  I desire my world building to be the basis for more than one story or even one series.  I’m ambitious.  I think of Heinlein building his “Future History” timeline with its torch ships, terra-forming, social crises and advances in medicine and longevity and the first halting steps to the stars.  Now that’s the way to do it.  Build up a framework that will allow for a whole suite of related but not interlocking stories.  Give yourself some guidelines and parameters but leave plenty of elbow room for different events, characters, locales, times and moods.  I want to make sure I don’t paint myself into any corners so I need some kind of overall outline that I’ve thought through.  That way I’ll be satisfied with whatever restrictions are involved.  For instance, maybe in this universe there isn’t any working star drive and maybe there never will be.  Or maybe the sun is dying and my Earth is working out a crash program to send colonists in suspended animation to every solar system that’s been telescopically identified in the hope that at least some of them will survive.  Or maybe a universe where the aliens found us and have put us in a remedial program to become less stupid and we have an enormous inferiority complex that is causing terminal ennui.  Whatever the setup is I’ll have mentally signed off on it.

So that’s what I’m working on (in a sort of retroactive way).  I want to build a world that my sniper story can be nested into.  I like the idea of our real world being reflected in a story with a way of resolving the problems we have run up against.  But I think I have to put a lot more potential in the story beyond the political conflict.  So, I’m trying to look at the big picture and add as many gee-whiz angles to make it more fun.  I think I may add cold fusion to the mix.  I’ve always liked the idea of some research into some of the heavier metals providing some unhoped-for breakthroughs in advanced physics.  Maybe not as drastic as the E. E. Smith trick that gives his Skylark characters a star drive but definitely limitless and elegant power production.  It’s definitely cheating but I’m thinking about it.

But all this big picture stuff is hurting my head so it’s a tough slog.  But I think it’s the right order of operation.

31AUG2024 – And Then, Quite Suddenly, Summer Was Over

Bradbury understood summer to a boy.

 

“And then, quite suddenly, summer was over.
He knew it first when walking downtown. Tom grabbed his arm and pointed gasping, at the dimestore window. They stood there unable to move because of the things from another world displayed so neatly, so innocently, so frighteningly, there.
“Pencils, Doug, ten thousand pencils!”
“Oh, my gosh!”
“Nickel tablets, dime tablets, notebooks, erasers, water colors, rulers, compasses, a hundred thousand of them!”
“Don’t look. Maybe it’s just a mirage.”
“No,” moaned Tom in despair. “School. School straight on ahead! Why, why do dime stores show things like that in windows before summer’s even over! Ruin half the vacation!”
― Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

 

“June dawns, July noons, August evenings over, finished, done, and gone forever with only the sense of it all left here in his head. Now, a whole autumn, a white winter, a cool and greening spring to figure sums and totals of summer past. And if he should forget, the dandelion wine stood in the cellar, numbered huge for each and every day. He would go there often, stare straight into the sun until he could stare no more, then close his eyes and consider the burned spots, the fleeting scars left dancing on his warm eyelids; arranging, rearranging each fire and reflection until the pattern was clear…
So thinking, he slept.
And, sleeping, put an end to Summer, 1928.”
― Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

 

The yearly ritual continues.

 

Debate in Dunwich – Part 4

BISHOP – Welcome to the third and final 2024 Debate between the candidates running for the office of Dunwich First Selectman.  I’m head moderator Uriah Bishop and tonight we’re here with Great Old One Hastur and unfortunately none of his opponents was willing to show up for this last debate.  Probably this is because he cooked and ate his last opponent, Azathoth at the conclusion of the debate.

HASTUR – Oh boo-hoo.  The big mean monster ate one of the other big mean monsters.  Grow up little pastry.  That is my world.  And that is your world too.  Look around you and observe how things really work.  The big fish eats the little fish.  Or bird or cat or man or monster.  Everything else is just make believe.  The strong survive and the weak go to the wall.

BISHOP – Then what is the point of the weak even trying?

HASTUR – The point is you want to breath that sweet air and feel your blood pulse through your veins for the next minute and the minute after that.  You’ll do whatever you can to keep alive.  And because the strong aren’t all that strong.  If you want something bad enough and work hard enough you can survive.  But just remember not to believe the hype.  Remember who you are dealing with.  Me.

BISHOP – And how are you going to run the show?

HASTUR – I intend to simplify things.  I’m gonna get rid of all the make believe.  I’m strong enough not to need the divide and conquer stuff.  I’ll deal with all of you insects at once.  You’ll all get the same deal from me.  You do what I say and the game goes on.  You get to keep your little lives and hoard your crumbs.  But rock the boat and you’ll get my undivided attention.  Now that’s pretty fair.  You might almost call me a humanitarian.  I love all the little people.  Especially with tabasco sauce.  So don’t rock the boat.

BISHOP – Well folks you heard it here first.  Great Old One Hastur has laid out his agenda for his term as First Selectman of Dunwich.  And in retrospect it is surprisingly close to the policy that dearly departed First Selectman Cthulhu followed.  He tended to eat anyone who forced him to break his routine or questioned his orders.  I’m sure we all will adapt easily to this new management.  Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.

HASTUR – Sure.  When you think about it, it’s a better deal than you’re getting from Washington.  At least I don’t insist that you pretend to like being eaten alive.  Honest tyranny is preferable to fake democracy.  You don’t have to love Big Brother just stay out of Caesar’s way and live to pull a galley slave’s oar another day.  Besides you can dream about a revolt and how you’ll slit the throats of all the masters one day.  Doesn’t that sound like fun?

BISHOP – Yes, your excellency.  What could be better than that.

HASTUR – That’s the spirit Bishop.  You know I’m starting to like you.  How would you like to be my emissary to the humans.  It doesn’t pay much but if you follow orders, I’ll probably eat you last!

BISHOP – That’s an offer no one could refuse.

HASTUR – Literally.

Debate in Dunwich – Part 3

 

BISHOP – Welcome to the second 2024 Debate between the candidates running for the office of Dunwich First Selectman.  I’m head moderator Uriah Bishop and I would introduce my four fellow moderators but they were eaten by candidate Hastur during the first debate.  Well, one wasn’t eaten but he started running as soon as the debate ended and by now, he must be somewhere over the Canadian border.  I will be running the debate but we have suspended all rules associated with the candidates’ actions out of naked fear of being ingested.  So, we expect a lively but chaotic night.

Tonight, our candidates are Hastur and Azathoth also known as the “Blind Idiot God,” but in a positive and non-judgmental way.  Seeing as Hastur scares me worst I will open up the debate by turning over the microphone to him.

HASTUR – Very good human, you managed to avoid immediate death.  Keep up the good work.  Well, Azathoth I see you’ve managed to scrape the cosmic barnacles off your face and show up for this debate.  What do you have to say for yourself?

AZATHOTH – Hey, watch that kind of talk.  Why in my day young whippersnappers knew enough to only speak when they were spoken to.  If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, I’ll take you out behind the Crab Nebula and teach you some manners, by gum.

HASTUR – Calm down sleepy Joe.  They don’t call you the Blind Idiot God for nothing.  If we squared off, you’d be lucky not to poke your own eye out with one of your claws.  Now let’s cut to the chase and tell the audience of puny humans what we each hope to achieve as “First Selectman.”  For instance, I hope to ban humans from adding artificial sweeteners to their foods and drinks.  All of these additives build up in human cells and always give me a headache if I have more than two or three humans at a meal.  Especially the female humans with their attempts to lose weight to attract a man.

AZATHOTH – Hey, what do you mean by stereotyping women that way?  That’s obviously sexist and it’s fat-shaming too.  What are you?  Some kind of agent of the patriarchy.  Why I oughta haul off and belt you one, you dog-faced pony soldier, you!  And why do you assume a woman is trying to attract a man.  Are you trying to deny the existence of the LGBTQ?

HASTUR – Okay that’s enough.

(Hastur closes with Azathoth and proceeds to dismember him.  First, he snaps off his lobster-like claws and then all of his remaining limbs.)

AZATHOTH – Ahhhhh!  Ahhhh!  You can’t do that to me.  I’m the supreme deity of the Cthulhu Mythos.

HASTUR – Yeah, yeah, yeah.  But you also taste really good baked with some dipping butter on the side.  So, everyone is invited to join me on the beach tonight for a good old seafood bake.  Bring your own bibs and I’ll provide the sides and beer.

BISHOP – Well, there you have it folks.  Hastur has taken to our New England customs and cuisine surprisingly quickly for an invading intergalactic demigod from another dimension.  And I for one applaud his generosity in hosting this party.  But I will not be attending.  There was no talk of what the side dishes would be and I don’t wish to tempt fate by ending up as one of them.  So, until the next debate this is Uriah Bishop wishing you a good night and nightmare free dreams.

Debate in Dunwich – Part 2

 

BISHOP – Welcome to the first 2024 Debate between the candidates running for the office of Dunwich First Selectman.  I’m head moderator Uriah Bishop and along with my four fellow moderators I will be running the debate and handling the time clock and microphones.  We randomly selected the two contestants for tonight’s debate.  They are two of the former First Selectman’s closest relatives; his daughter Cthylla and his half-brother Hastur.

Before we get started I will just explain the rules of the debate.  Each candidate will be given two minutes to answer a question.  If the candidate exceeds that time he will have his microphone shut off and will be penalized a minute for the first offense and two minutes for his second offense.  On the third offense he will lose all right to answer questions.

(At this point Hastur moved toward the moderators’ dais and ate one of the officials.)

HASTUR – Now I will explain my rules.  Every time you say something annoying, I will eat some of you.  First offense I will eat one of you, as I just did.  Second offense two of you.  On the third offense I’ll eat all the rest of the moderators and probably most of the spectators.

BISHOP – Those are very convincing rules.  Can I start the questioning?

HASTUR – Certainly, my little dumpling.

BISHOP – Thank you your titanic excellency.  Cthylla, if you are elected First Selectman, what will be your first official act?

CTHYLLA – That’s easy.  I will change the job title to First Select Person!  We’re in the twentieth century here and this patriarchal sexism will be laid to rest!  And after that I intend to change the pronunciation of Dunwich so that you can hear the w.  I will enact a law that anyone pronouncing it “Dunitch” will be fined a hundred dollars.  Oh, and I intend to make rooftop solar panels and electric cars mandatory.  And …

HASTUR – Alright, that’s enough.  Listen you empty-headed boob.  Why should a Great Old One care what humans name their bureaucrats?  Or how they pronounce their absurd place names.  Basically, they’re cattle for us to herd and then devour.  And as for this stupid “election,” I’m doing this for fun.  If these insignificant maggots vote for anyone but me, I’ll flatten half of Dunwich as an object lesson and start eating a dozen of them daily until they come to me, en masse, and beg me to be their “First Selectman.”

CTHYLLA – Hastur, you can’t talk to me that way.  In the words of my favorite philosopher, my future as the leader of Dunwich is unburdened by what has been.

BOTH FEMALE MODERATOR – You go girl!

(Hastur, once again, ambles over to the Moderators’ dais and eats both female moderators.)

HASTUR – That’s two strikes.

BISHOP – Well, I think this concludes the question period of this debate.  I think we’ll proceed to closing arguments and I will ask Hastur to go first.

HASTUR – Cthylla you are a brainless nincompoop.  How my brother ever spawned anything as vacuous as you is inexplicable.  I recommend you spend your time trying to memorize which are your right and left legs and leave running the known universe to beings with the ruthlessness and intelligence needed to succeed.  If you are any indication of what the next generation of Great Old Ones is like then I shudder to think how we will conquer the giant Martian Beetle Men a billion years from now after I retire to R’lyeh.

BISHOP – Well, I think we should end here.  Although both candidates have spoken passionately, I think it’s fair to say that Hastur has driven home his argument, uh, viscerally.  And for that reason he will advance to the next debate when his opponent will be the Azathoth or as he is sometimes known the “Blind Idiot God.”

HASTUR – I like to call him “Sleepy Joe.”

BISHOP – Well said, well said.  Unfortunately, I will not be moderating at that debate due to a schedule conflict that is unavoidable.

HASTUR – You better avoid it or you’ll have an appointment with my alimentary canal.

BISHOP – I’ve just remembered a cancellation.  I’ll be there of course.

Debate in Dunwich – Part 1

With the death of First Selectman Cthulhu a power vacuum has formed.  But not a metaphorical one.  The disappearance of Cthulhu has caused an actual rip in the fabric of space-time and various Great Old Ones and their allies and servants have been sucked into our space-time and hurled down to Dunwich.

Sighted so far are:

  • Hastur; the polypous, ravenous floating mass endowed with tentacles, drills, and suckers, or more frequently, as the King in Yellow, a humanoid being wearing tattered, yellow clothes and a mask hiding the face. He is said to be Cthulhu’s (half-)brother.
  • Idh-yaa; A gigantic, pale, worm-like horror dwelling beneath the crust of the star Xoth. She has been Cthulhu’s first bride, and with him spawned three sons—Ghatanothoa, Ythogtha, and Zoth-Ommog—and a younger daughter, Cthylla.
  • Yog-Sothoth; The “All-in-One and One-in-All”, co-rules with Azathoth and exists as the incarnation of time in the cosmos, yet is somehow locked outside the mundane universe.
  • Shub-Niggurath; The “Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young”
  • Nyarlathotep; The “Crawling Chaos”, is the avatar of the Outer Gods, existing as the incarnation of space and functions as an intermediary between the deities of the pantheon and their cults.
  • Azathoth; Sometimes referred to as the “Blind Idiot God”, is a dreaming monster who rules the Outer Gods, created them (along with many other worlds) and thus effectively serves as the supreme deity of the Cthulhu Mythos.

With these Great Old Ones wishing to succeed Cthulhu as the leader of storied Dunwich, these demonic beings have each filled out the necessary paperwork and paid the fees to be placed on the November ballot for the office of First Selectman of Dunwich.  The Town Clerk has posted the ballot in the Dunwich Complainer and a series of debates will take place.  But not in the Town Hall as is typical but rather in an open field on Sentinel Hill where the larger Great Old Ones can more easily fit.

Due to the short window for campaigning there was not sufficient time for any of the candidates to obtain the endorsement of either of the two major parties but since the Democrats are rightly considered the sowers of chaos, any monstrous entity would more or less qualify as a Democrat candidate.

When contacted by the Complainer, only Hastur made himself available for comment.  The polypous, ravenous floating mass endowed with tentacles morphed into his King in Yellow, humanoid wearing tattered, yellow clothes and mask hiding his face form.  But before speaking he morphed into a very Trump-like monster.  He was quoted as saying, “These debates will be the greatest debates and all these other Great Old Ones will be shown to be not very great.  In fact, except for me they will all be terrible.  They will all be like Sleepy Joe Biden; very confused and very stupid.  Especially Azathoth who really is the “Blind Idiot God.”  But he’s not really blind.  He’s just pretending to be blind for the sympathy.  Very sad.  By the end of the debate all of them will drop out and I will be first Selectman.  This I guarantee.”

We at the Dunwich Complainer will follow this race diligently and will shamelessly favor whichever candidate pays us the most advertising revenue.  Stay tuned for this titanic struggle.  Winner take Dunwich.

Putting Up a Fight

I am a Tolkien fan and have been one since I was probably eleven.  The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, The Silmarillion, his lesser works, even his biography.  And I greatly respect the world-building he did in creating Middle Earth; the history, geography, the various non-human races and the tribes of men, even the religious underpinnings of his world.  I love his characters and their interplay with each other and the plot.

But I must be honest.  I find Frodo thoroughly annoying.  Sure, sure.  He carried the One Ring for the better part of a year and didn’t fail until at the very edge of the abyss.  And this after being poisoned by Shelob and frog-marched by orcs across the plains of Mordor.  Maybe that effort was heroic to an extent that we are supposed to revere it as an herculean effort for making it 99.9% of the way.  Maybe.

But that hobbit annoys the hell out of me.  Surely, I’m not the only one who has wondered, what if Frodo had been left behind and the ring had been given to Samwise Gamgee?  Maybe the whole thing could have been done in half the time.  Maybe on Sam’s less refined but sturdier shoulders there wouldn’t have been as much angst about the burden of the ring.  And one thing’s for sure.  Gollum would have been toast.  Sam would have put Sting through that homicidal proto-hobbit without further ado.  And that alone would have made the story shorter and less annoying.  Now you might say that without Gollum they wouldn’t have found their way in.  Well, in that case they hadn’t provided Frodo with enough information to get in.  So, put Aragorn and Sam together as the team.  Or Legolas and Sam together as the team.  Basically, anyone but Frodo.  I’ve heard that the dream team is Gandalf and an eagle but if we’re afraid that Gandalf would be too tempted by the Ring then just go with Sam and an eagle.

And if Sam had succeeded in destroying the ring he wouldn’t have needed to go across the sea to heal.  He would’ve gone right back to work clipping hedges at Bag End.  No fuss, no muss.  Sure, if Frodo had been left behind, Sam wouldn’t be inheriting Bag End because Frodo wouldn’t have to go to the Grey Havens.  Sam and Rosie would need to buy a starter-hole somewhere on Bagshot Row.  But the Gaffer surely had something socked away for Sam and the Cotton clan look like they take care of their own.

Now of course Tolkien had in mind that Frodo was the suffering servant of the Lord and Sam was sort of the batman or orderly for the more aristocratic Frodo.  This sort of synchs with Tolkien’s service in the First World War where an upper-class officer had a commoner for a batman.  And all of that is fine but I just wish Frodo had displayed a lot more pluck and grit than he did.

Would it have killed him to take down Shelob?  At least go down swinging.  Okay rant over.